Interlude and Fugue
by vandiver49
Summary: Do Vulcan's like chocolate? Maybe...but they definately don't liked to be picked on
1. Chapter 1

Interlude and Fugue  
  
By vandiver49  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with Star Trek, I'm just borrowing them for a moment. Please don't sue; people in the Navy don't make that much money. I hope this is as funny as I think it is.  
  
This story takes place before "A Night in Sickbay"  
  
_________________________________  
  
Hoshi Sato sighed once again. It was her third one in as many minutes, an obvious indication of her growing impatience. "Where could Jackie possibly be?" She asked, her eyes transfixed on the golden foil box that adorned the table.  
  
"She's an engineer Hoshi; you know they're always working way past their shifts." Elizabeth Cutler replied, attempting to placate the Communications Officer's growing frustration.  
  
The two were sitting in the Mess Hall, bathed in the twilight that spilled through the porthole window onto their table in the corner. The two were waiting for Crewman Jacquelyn Kelly so that could indulge in what had become a monthly tradition. It started off rather innocently enough, three women who sought an escape from their testosterone laden lives. This was their opportunity to gossip about the various rumors that transversed the ship and alleviate the stress generated from their work, a feat accomplished by a large box of chocolates.  
  
"You know what, forget it. Let's just start without her." Hoshi said as she lifted the lid off the box.  
  
It was just then that the doors to the Mess Hall opened flew open to reveal the ship's resident Vulcan. T'Pol's sudden presence immediately captured the two women's attention as she stood frozen in the threshold. They noted the furrowed brow and narrowed eyes, both of which nicely complimented her overall terse expression. Although Vulcans were supposed to be adept at concealing their true emotions, it was obvious that the Sub-Commander had spent too much time amongst humans. That or either Hoshi or Elizabeth had become especially proficient in discerning T'Pol's demeanor, for they were easily able to ascertain the source of the First Officer's discomfort.  
  
"Commander Tucker." Both women bemoaned in unison.  
  
"So what do you think he did to her this time?" Liz asked.  
  
"Oh who knows, but judging from the look on her face I'd say she was on the losing end." Hoshi replied.  
  
"It must be tough for her, being the only Vulcan on an all human ship." Liz said, watching the Sub-Commander as she finally made her way towards the drink dispenser.  
  
"Hey, why not invite her over?" Hoshi suggested, already waving her hand in an attempt to get the Vulcan's attention.  
  
'Wait," Elizabeth pleaded, "don't do that. She doesn't even like me."  
  
"She doesn't like or dislike anyone Liz. And anytime Commander Tucker manages to piss her off she just takes her frustration out on the bridge." Hoshi said. "Besides, aren't you the least bit curious?"  
  
"Curious about what?" Cutler asked guardedly.  
  
"Curious to see if what they say is true, that every woman loves chocolate."  
  
T'Pol apparently decided to accept the invitation, walking across the Mess Hall to the secluded table. "Evening Sub-Commander." Both women said in unison as T'Pol moved to sit. "Ensign Sato, Crewman Cutler, how are the two of you this evening?" T'Pol replied as she set her cup down on the table.  
  
"We're doing fine, just sitting around waiting for a friend of ours." Liz chimed.  
  
Realizing that she had just taken the last unoccupied seat at the table, T'Pol began to rise. "I apologize for my."  
  
"No T'Pol, please sit back down." Hoshi pleaded with an extended arm. "There's plenty room for one more." The Vulcan dutifully returned to her seat.  
  
"Would you like a chocolate turtle?" Elizabeth asked, removing the lid from the box to display the wonderful treats within to the Vulcan. But she was obviously for from impressed as she furrowed her brow in disgust.  
  
"Don't worry Sub-Commander; no animals were harmed in the creation of these delectable treats." Hoshi explained, which seemed to abate some the Vulcan's displeasure.  
  
"Then what do they consist of?" T'Pol inquired.  
  
"Well, mostly cream, caramel and pralines. But the most important ingredient is the chocolate coating. You should really try one; it'll ease your nerves." Liz explained, unaware of the accusation she had just made.  
  
What gives you the impression that my nerves are under duress crewman?" T'Pol questioned sternly.  
  
Hoshi watched as her friend recoiled under the Vulcan's burning glare, a result Cutler's inexperience in dealing with T'Pol. "Well, to be honest Sub-Commander," Hoshi perked up, "it's pretty obvious. I guess we're starting to rub off on you?" She teased.  
  
T'Pol wanted to challenge Hoshi's suspicion, but her claim was far too accurate.  
  
"So Sub-Commander, would you like to try one?" Liz ventured again, holding the box up for display once more.  
  
T'Pol rebuffed the crewman once more, as she was most certainly not going to touch the candy with her fingers.  
  
Readily aware of T'Pol's new dilemma, Hoshi reached for one of the unused forks set at the table. "Here, use this."  
  
T'Pol took the proffered silverware in hand and returned her attention back to the box, scanning over the possible thirty selections. She settled on the piece squarely in the middle, for no other reason than its absence would have the least damaging effect on the symmetry of the other pieces.  
  
"How is chocolate supposed to 'ease my nerves'?" She asked, cagily eyeing the confection that rested atop her fork.  
  
Both Hoshi and Liz exchanged curious glances and shrugged shoulders, as neither had an answer to T'Pol's query. They both turned back to the Sub- Commander, completely stumped. "They just do. There's plenty of speculation on why, but even 600 years after its discovery, no one knows for sure." Liz conceded, as she decided to follow T'Pol's lead and partake of the little piece of heaven.  
  
T'Pol returned her attention once again to the chocolate treat, the crewman's answer doing little to satiate her curiosity. Realizing that there was only one thing that would, she leaned slightly forward and ventured a small bite.  
  
Inside her mouth, the chocolate that covered the treat instantly began to melt, yielding a creamy caramel center. She found the taste of chocolate rather perplexing. It wasn't nearly as sweet as pecan pie, but definitely as delicious. Inexorably, T'Pol could feel the tension in her neck, face and back slowly begin to melt away like the rivulets of cocoa that coated her palette. Pleased with the results of the first bite, the Vulcan decided to continue her indulgence.  
  
"So Sub-Commander, what did he do this time?" Hoshi asked, easily discerning T'Pol's more agreeable mood. She reached for the box and pulled out her first tantalizing treat.  
  
T'Pol responded to the Communications Officer's query with a raised eyebrow, her mouth too enthralled by the wonderful feelings her taste buds were eliciting to offer a verbal response.  
  
Hoshi was about to redress her question when the doors to the Mess Hall parted once more, barely missing a boisterous Crewman Kelly. She made her way across the room in seconds, talking all the while. "Hey guys, sorry I'm late. You wouldn't believe the argument that broke out between Commander Tucker and Sub-Comm." the engineering crewman suddenly stopped her running diatribe upon seeing their unexpected dinner guest. "Uhhh.excuse me Sub-Commander." Jackie stammered.  
  
T'Pol sought to immediately diffuse the awkward situation. "Good evening Crewman Kelly, please join us."  
  
"Yea Jackie, what were you rambling about?" Hoshi inquired as the new crewman pulled up another chair.  
  
"I believe Crewman Kelly was about to answer your question Ensign Sato." T'Pol answered.  
  
All eyes turned to Jacquelyn, who was understandably embarrassed as the subject of her little piece of gossip was apart of the present company. "Well, I was just going to elaborate on the latest disagreement between you and the Chief Engineer. It appeared as though he won another round." She relayed with some trepidation and as little embellishment as possible.  
  
T'Pol, whose fork was posed to extract another piece of chocolate, took issue with her verbal confrontations with Commander Tucker being likened to a contest. "I believe it would be more accurate to describe today's earlier events as a difference of opinion, nothing more."  
  
Three of the women at the table exchanged telling glances at each other before degenerating into a fit of laughter and stymied giggles, a rather odd response in T'Pol's estimation. And the look in her face conveyed her confusion.  
  
"Sub-Commander, who else on this ship do you argue with as much a Commander Tucker?" Hoshi asked, attempting to validate her and her friends' amusement.  
  
The question posed caught T'Pol somewhat off guard. It was a subject she hadn't given any requisite thought to. More disturbing though was the absolute validity of Hoshi's assessment. Commander Tucker was the only person she seemingly disagreed with on a consistent basis.  
  
The unusual silence from the Vulcan was itself an answer to the Communication Officer's question. "You see Sub-Commander; he's the only person you argue with because he does it on purpose." Hoshi continued, with Liz and Jackie nodding in agreement.  
  
"Why would the Chief Engineer purposefully choose to antagonize me?" T'Pol asked, absently spearing another piece of chocolate.  
  
"Because it irritates you." Jackie nonchalantly replied. "It's the only way he knows how to get a response out of you."  
  
The conversation had come full circle, much to T'Pol's chagrin. While being amongst the company of these women was quite enjoyable, the revelation that her emotions were so easily discernable along with the knowledge that they were being manipulated by design were quite distressing in her estimation.  
  
"You know Sub-Commander; you really should get him back." Hoshi said, tired of watching T'Pol sit in quiet self-loathing.  
  
"And why should I want to do that?"  
  
"Because," Liz interjected, "turnabout is fair play. Think about it, Commander Tucker is probably gloating to someone about how he bested you today."  
  
"Yea, him and the Captain are probably having a good laugh over it right now." Jackie added.  
  
For some reason, T'Pol took major exception to the idea of Trip having fun at her expense. "So how do you propose I 'get' him back?"  
  
Stumped by the Vulcan's question, all four women reached for another piece of chocolate, quietly pondering how best to exact revenge against Commander Tucker. That piece of chocolate would be a source of inspiration for Hoshi, or more accurately the erotic way she licked the chocolate off her finger and the curious stare it garnered from a passing crewmen.  
  
"That's it!" Hoshi snapped in exclamation.  
  
"What is 'it'?" T'Pol drawled in return.  
  
"'It', is how you're going to get Commander Tucker back." Hoshi replied, with a nefarious grin on her face. "So tell me Sub-Commander, are you having breakfast with the Captain and Chief Engineer tomorrow?"  
  
TBC 


	2. Chapter 2

Interlude and Fugue (Chapter 2)  
  
By vandiver49  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with Star Trek, I'm just borrowing them for a moment. Please don't sue; people in the Navy don't make that much money. I'm thrilled that everyone got a good laugh out of the first chapter. I hope the second is just as entertaining.  
  
This story takes place before "A Night in Sickbay"  
  
As I have no idea how to write with italics, conversations between the asterisks reference the previous night.  
  
_________________________________  
  
The next morning, T'Pol found herself sharing breakfast with the Captain and the Chief Engineer. She picked over her bowl of mixed fruit, silently mulling over the conversation from the previous night. She was completely oblivious to the daily report that Commander Tucker was delivering to the Captain.  
  
"Most of our systems are running up to specs, though I'm thinking about going ahead and purging the warp coil manifolds. She's kinda riding a little sluggish today."  
  
While T'Pol had enjoyed the camaraderie of last night, she had serious reservations about the proposed method of delivering Commander Tucker's retribution.  
  
* * *  
  
"Sub-Commander, haven't you ever noticed how guys stare at you sometimes? Hoshi's words echoed in her mind.  
  
"Of course Ensign, I am an alien onboard this vessel. I imagine the stares are no different from the ones Dr. Phlox receives."  
  
"Sub-Commander, the stares you garner have nothing to do with you being alien. At least no directly anyway," Crewman Cutler responded.  
  
* * *  
  
T'Pol chided herself for the naïveté that she had displayed amongst the other women. She was readily aware that some might find her appearance to their liking. Just because these were Earth's first deep space explorers did not make them any less human. Indeed, such a revelation did explain some of the lingering stares she had encountered from Lieutenant Reed and even Ensign Mayweather. However, she was certain that Commander Tucker harbored no such desires for her.  
  
"So how's the reverse engineering of the Suliban cell ship coming?" Jonathan redressed to his engineer.  
  
"Now that is currently the bane of my existence," Trip responded. "I barely figure out what's powering the thing; to speak nothing of its combat systems suite- -"  
  
T'Pol was also hesitant for another reason; despite the years rigid training and strict adherence to Vulcan dogma, she herself was not above stealing a few chaste glances at those she found 'aesthetically pleasing', Commander Tucker in particular. What right did she have to deny that privilege to others? She was ready to dismiss the entire scheme as academic until she heard her name upon the Commander's tongue; or more accurately an unflattering nickname.  
  
"- - Hell, even Our Lady of Logic is clueless." T'Pol looked up at the Commander and the crooked smile he wore upon his face as he returned her stare. His supremely confident disposition, coupled with the chuckle of laughter that his comment elicited from the Captain, forced her to recant her position.  
  
"So Sub-Commander, do you have anything to add?" Archer was able to ask after he finished laughing.  
  
"No Captain, the Chief Engineer's assessment is correct. The technology of the Suliban cell ship is currently beyond our level of comprehension," T'Pol responded. She paused as both the Captain and Commander turned their attention back to their meals. She noted in particular the generous bite the Chief Engineer was helping himself to. Now was the perfect opportunity, in her estimation.  
  
"Commander," T'Pol started, placing her fork down neatly beside her bowl, "it has been brought to my attention that my appearance and dress may be a source of distraction for some of the crew. I was curious if you had experienced this phenomenon?"  
  
Her question had the desired effect as Trip quickly choked on the eggs as he looked up at T'Pol in disbelief. Even the captain looked up from his meal in wide-eyed amazement at his Science Officer's accusation.  
  
Trip managed to swallow enough of his meal to submit a muttered "Huh?" in response.  
  
"I asked you Commander, if you found my appearance distracting?" she asked again.  
  
Trip's answer was an unequivocal no, but it was an answer T'Pol had expected, or had been told to expect.  
  
* * *  
  
"Why would such an accusation rattle the Commander?" T'Pol questioned.  
  
"Because guys are highly vulnerable to suggestion to begin with, especially him. Just look at all the alien women that he's already found attractive. I find it hard to believe that you're an exception. Just catch him in the act when his eyes start to drift downward," Crewman Cutler explained.  
  
* * *  
  
"So are you saying that you do not find me attractive?" T'Pol asked in an unusually human fashion.  
  
True to form, Trip gaze slowly started to descend over her curves. He tried to disguise his evaluation by taking another bite of food, but T'Pol was hardly fooled. She simply waited patiently for his gaze to settle out around her chest before continuing.  
  
"Commander, my eyes are not down there," T'Pol admonished, crossing her arms to obscure his view. Trip was forced to meet her eyes in embarrassment, desperately hoping for a change of subject. "Are you going to answer my question Commander?" T'Pol asked, continuing to press her advantage.  
  
Trip looked over at Jonathan, desperately looking for a lifeline. But the Captain had long since abandoned his wingman, his face buried in his plate, presumably to conceal his smile. Trip's eyes drifted back over towards his current nemesis, whose determined stare had never abated.  
  
Finally, Trip decided to bite the bullet. "T'Pol, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you're not as cute as you think."  
  
T'Pol's rebuttal was, of course, immediate. "Judging by the way you just looked at me Commander, I find that hard to believe."  
  
Trip could only roll his eyes in irritation, his Captain no longer able to restrain his amusement. "Hey, aren't you supposed to be on my side?" Trip asked as he threw hands up in frustration.  
  
Jonathan, now struggling for air between laughs quickly dismissed his friend. "Trip, she got a point. T'Pol's the only alien female that you haven't made a move on since we've been out here."  
  
"With friends like these." Trip started as he rose from the table. "I'm going back to work." And with that, Trip left the room, as T'Pol realized that she had just bested the Chief Engineer.  
  
As soon as he left, T'Pol turned her attention towards the end of the table at Captain Archer, who was still reeling at Trip's somewhat childish display. She rose a curious brow at him, which caught his instant attention.  
  
Upon sensing the Vulcan's stare, Jon took up his fork and pointed the tines of the utensil directly at her. "Don't even think about it."  
  
T'Pol decided it was best to heed his warning, satisfied with her decisive victory. 


	3. Chapter 3

Interlude and Fugue (Chapter 3)

By vandiver49

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with Star Trek, I'm just borrowing them for a moment. Please don't sue; people in the Navy don't make that much money.

This story takes place after "Singularity"

Commander Tucker was not amused as he stormed out onto the bridge. He barely stopped to see who was on watch as he proceeded to the turbolift, in hopes of beating the news of his embarrassed back to Engineering. He released a long belated sigh as the doors slid closed behind him. Alone with his thoughts, he was finally forced to replay the events of what should have been a fairly routine breakfast over in his mind. 'How could I have been so stupid!' He chided himself, bagging his head against the wall in frustration.

The absolute last thing he ever wanted was for T'Pol to know that he found her even moderately attractive. That was his personal secret, something that was never meant to see the light of day and now she knew. He dare not speculate what she would do with such intimate knowledge, her mind was far too calculating for him to even hazard a guess. As the turbolift continued its decent one thing was certain; while she might have been victorious this time around, the last laugh would ultimately be his.

Decks above, T'Pol finished her meal with the Captain and assumed her watch on the Bridge. As she walked over to her console, it was impossible to ignore the incessant giggling emanating from the communications station. "I take it your little plan was a success?" Hoshi asked while under the pretense of searching for miscellaneous broadband frequencies.

"It appeared to have the desired effect." T'Pol answered, immediately immersing herself into the scanner display, concealing her face and he barest hint of concern etched thereon. She would have never guessed the Chief Engineer to be included in the lot of males onboard who found her attractive. But that was not as nearing as distressing as the realization that the 2.347 seconds it took for his eyes to traverse her body she found slightly…pleasurable.

Being the object of physical desire was not an unusual experience for T'Pol. But where most seemed to only admire her physical attributes, Commander Tucker's survey of her was more analytical. The look in his eyes was a familiar one, akin to his scan of a diagram, as though he were trying to solve a complex equation. Did he consider her a problem and their continual bickering her preferred solution?

"Well just be careful," Hoshi continued disturbing T'Pol's introspection, "Commander Tucker's not likely to give up so easily."

The Vulcan turned her chair towards the Ensign, an eyebrow arched in confusion. "Come on Sub-Commander, do you really think he's just going to let you get the best of him?"

"No," T'Pol muttered reluctantly, "Likely not."

Down in Engineering, Commander Tucker found himself and his staff in an unusual situation; severely under worked. Most of the day was spent fixing all the relatively minor problems a ship encounters from simple wear and tear.

As he sat in one of the numerous Jeffries Tubes throughout the ship, Trip silently contemplated a fitting revenge for his pointy-eared nemesis. His initial solution was to switch her meditation candles with trick ones, but decided against it. He would somehow have to break into her quarters and that was simply too great a risk for even him to take. "Perhaps a rendezvous with everyone's favorite space dog?" He verbally mused. But again he thought better of it as the Captain probably would appreciate exploiting Porthos in such a manner. No his retribution needed to be of a subtle variety, yet command her highest degree of annoyance. As Trip continued to mull over the best possible prank, another unanswered question popped into his mind; 'Why?'

Verbal retaliation wasn't outside of T'Pol's purview, but never like what he experienced this morning. There must have been some type of catalyst that prompted her to take such a sexual tact. What was he missing? He replayed the entire event in his head once more. It was then, in total recollection that one critical piece of data finally came into focus. Out of the corner of his eye, as he crossed the bridge towards the turbolift was the faint but distinct sound of a strangled laugh coming from the Communications Station. 'Was she laughing at me?' He asked himself rhetorically as he finished up the repairs. 'But for her to do that she would have…'

"Owwdamnittohellsonofa…" Trip train of thought was interrupted by the resounded thud of his head against the bulkhead in response to his epiphany. He instinctively reached towards his crown, searching for the signs of oncoming swelling. He continued to curse as he crawled down to tube, realizing that if Ensign Sato was in on the joke that surely the rest of her clique was too. In fact he had detained one of them inadvertently last night. The thought only proved to aggravate the injury as his head resonated with a fury that could only be attributed to a headache. In such a case he was definitely going to need to see the doctor.

As with everywhere else on the ship, the doctor's workload was extremely light. Thus Trip's minor bump was treated as a major crisis. "You really should be more careful when working in confined spaces Commander." Phlox admonished as he finished healing the small gash on to of the Chief Engineer's head.

"Thanks doc, I'll try to remember that the next time I have a revelation." With Phlox finished with his examination, Trip jumped off the biobed, making one final request. "Hey doc, I was wondering if you might be able to give me something for the headache."

"Why of course Commander, I'll be just a moment." While Trip waited patiently for relief, Phlox decided that now would be a wonderful opportunity to broach another topic. "Also Commander, I feel obligated to inform you that you are past due for your yearly physical."

Trip cursed silently under his breath as he had completely forgotten about the annual examination. "I'm sorry Phlox, but you know I busy I am. Besides, I'm not _that_ overdue."

"Commander, these physicals are scheduled to coincide with your birthday so you would remember them. You however are more than _three_ months overdue." Phlox stated.

"Well I promise that I'll come back as soon as you have time. I'm sure you have animals to feed, other patients you need to see…" Trip responded, attempting to make his way towards the door.

"Nonsense Commander, the only other patient I have scheduled is Sub-Commander T'Pol for her physical. And unlike some people, I'm sure she'll have the decency to keep her appointment." Phlox countered, moving to block Trip's escape. "Keep in mind Commander that Captain Archer is quite unaware of your delinquency, at the moment."

The unveiled threat had the desired effect as Trip decided to relent. He climbed back up on the biobed while Phlox went off to gather a host of medical instruments. As he contemplated just how he managed to get himself in his present conundrum, Trip stumbled upon the priceless information Phlox had absently imparted upon him. Slowly, a smile that could only be rivaled by Phlox spread across the Commander's face.

If one were not readily familiar with _Enterprise's_ First Officer, it could be easily misconstrued that she as taking Ensign Sato's advice for exercising caution to an unnecessary extreme. But the Vulcan was meticulous in everything she did, which was fortuitous as T'Pol had little intention of being subjected to any form of Commander Tucker's retribution.

Unfortunately, T'Pol and her science team were suffering from the same affliction that plagued the rest of the ship, an abundance of idle time. Refusing to allow a single free moment to go to waste, T'Pol decided to visit sickbay to attend to a personal matter.

Not to her surprise, she was cordially welcomed by the ship's physician. "Good Morning Sub-Commander, here for your yearly physical?" Phlox beamed. Nodding in the affirmative, she prepared herself for the thirty minute examination.

As Phlox finished his ministrations and assured the Vulcan that she was in the best of health, he found himself posed with a routine query. "Is my medication prepared?" T'Pol asked.

"Oh, your nasal inhibitor was ready earlier this morning. But since I was unsure of how busy you would be today, Commander Tucker graciously offered to drop it off for you in the Science Lab." He responded cheerfully.

T'Pol's spidey sense, or whatever the Vulcan equivalent would be, began tingling. Unsure of the ploy the Chief Engineer had hoped to ensnare her in, she decided to exercise a bit of Terran wisdom. "I'm sorry Doctor, but he has yet to deliver it. Perhaps you could prepare another dosage?" Being safe rather than sorry was too logical of a concept to ignore.

"Absolutely Sub-Commander, though I find it strange. Commander Tucker insisted that he would…" Phlox started, but his train of thought was interrupted by T'Pol's prescription, resting comfortably on the counter.

He immediately reached for the bottle and offered to his waiting patient. "Here you are T'Pol. Apparently, Commander Tucker changed his mind."

"Indeed." T'Pol skeptically replied as she took the proffered medicine.

As she walked back to the Science Lab, T'Pol silently pondered what possible interest Commander Tucker would have in her nasal inhibitor. It was a fairly innocuous substance and tampering with it would be futile as she had the mean to identify any anomalies present. She was ready to dismiss the entire idea as the doors to her lab parted. But there, resting neatly on a self was a bottle of nasal inhibitor, as promised.

Trip was whistling Dixie as he returned to his office, wishing he could see the expression on T'Pol's face when she returned to her lab. But he was sure that all his plans would come to fruition tonight around dinner. Both Malcolm and the Captain seemed rather enthused about helping out and the necessary arrangements were already being made. Trip really only had one more pressing task before him, primarily what to do with the rest of T'Pol's newfound friends.

"Crewman Kelly" He called finding her between the EPS conduits and the primary life support systems.

"Afternoon sir," She replied, slightly startled by his presence, "just finishing up my readings down her."

"Oh, no problem. I just wanted to apologize for holding you up yesterday. I didn't keep you from anything did I?" Trip feigned as he casually leaned against the bulkhead.

"Nothing major sir, just hanging with some friends."

"Well, to make it up to you, when you finish up your rounds, go ahead and call it a day."

"Are you sure sir?" Jackie asked, her mind jumping between confusion and adulation.

"Definitely, just think of it as my way of saying sorry."

"Thank you sir!" She replied, quickly making her way up the ladder, leaving in such haste that she failed to here the Chief Engineer's hushed voice. "No crewman, thank _you_."

T'Pol made her way down the corridor in silence. She was actually looking forward to meeting with the female crewmembers she had recently befriended. But they all seemed preoccupied when she called them at the end of her watch. As it was, T'Pol thought it best to simply indulge in a cup of chamomile tea prior to her evening meditation. But no amount of emotional control could have prepared the Vulcan for what greeted the threshold to the Mess Hall…

"SURPRISE!"


	4. Chapter 4

Interlude and Fugue (Chapter 4)

By vandiver49

Summary: Anything you can do, I can do better.

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with Star Trek, I'm just borrowing them for a moment. Please don't sue; people in the Navy don't make that much money.

This story takes place after "Singularity"

The pounding of her footsteps permeated her ears as she quickened her pace. In her mind's eye she was running across the searing plains of Gol, her skin bathed in the brilliance of the crimson sunlight. But in actuality T'Pol was light-years from her home, her steps carrying her nowhere as she ran on the treadmill. She was in considerable thought, but not about micro singularities or spatial anomalies. No, T'Pol's mind was focused on the singular pursuit of how best to avenge Commander Tucker's impromptu surprise birthday party in her honor.

A cheer went up from across the other side of the makeshift gym, garnering T'Pol's attention. Her workout complete, she decided to take a closer look at the athletic endeavor that had enraptured so many. As she made her way through the standing audience, she spotted Hoshi and the rest of her companions from the previous night.

"Oh, hey Sub-Commander, how are you doing?" Hoshi inquired.

"I am well." T'Pol replied casually, "all things considered." Her annoyance with the Chief Engineer's latest hoax was still quite palpable. There was supposedly even a picture circulating around the ship that had captured her visible surprise.

With the subject all but breached, Jackie decided to go ahead and ask the obvious question. "Forgive me for asking Sub-Commander, but how was he even able to surprise you?" Readily aware of how keen Vulcan senses were.

"Did it have something to do with your nasal inhibitor?" Cutler absently interjected, but T'Pol was quick to point out the flaw in her assumption.

"The inhibitor, despite what the name suggests, only suppresses my olfactory system. I still should have been able to smell the cake, a roomful of people or the burning of the candles. I am also unsure of how I was unable to hear the noise emanating from the Mess Hall, until it was too late."

T'Pol's confusion led Crewman Kelly to a revelation. "I think I know how." She bemoaned remorsefully, "Commander Tucker gave me the rest of the afternoon off yesterday, _while_ I was taking reading on the environmental controls. He probably put something in the atmosphere that increased the nasal inhibitor's properties. That, coupled with the alignment of a couple of grav pumps and generators…"

"Would effectively render my heightened senses useless." T'Pol concluded.

"Well, we're all sorry we couldn't make it, but happy belated birthday." Jackie offered.

"Your absences were noticed." T'Pol stated, curious as to why they failed to show.

"Well, lets just say Commander Tucker decided to 'exact' a little revenge on me." Hoshi started. "He downloaded some virus into my language sub-routines, practically corrupting to entire database with colorful southern colloquialisms. Spent all night trying to clean it up."

"He got me too." Liz added. "I spent all evening chasing Dr. Phlox's stupid bat around sickbay. Its nearly impossible to catch that thing at night."

"I couldn't have come anyway; I ended up having to relieve someone on watch who got sick." Jackie supplied.

With the mystery concluded, the women returned their focus back toward the contest before them.

"They are playing basketball correct?" T'Pol asked.

"Yea," Hoshi answered, "it's almost over. The score's 9 to 7 skins."

Her answer segued perfectly into T'Pol's next query. "Why are only half of them wearing shirts?"

"So they can differentiate between the teams." Jackie responded.

The skins team consisted of Commander Tucker, Crewman Rostov and Lieutenant Reed, while the other team was made up of the Captain, Ensign Mayweather and Crewman Novokivich. Being First Officer, T'Pol prided herself on her knowledge of the crew, but one of the players on the court presence was somewhat unusual. "I did not believe Lieutenant Reed was fond of sporting contests?" She stated.

"I didn't think he was either, but I'm sure Commander Tucker had something to do with that." Hoshi replied, her attention still on the game.

"I did not think you were fond of them either." T'Pol added.

"Oh, I'm not. I'm just here enjoying the view." Hoshi shamelessly replied.

T'Pol said nothing in response; she couldn't help but silently agree. All three of the shirtless contestant had well defined physiques, but there was one in particular who caught her attention. He was currently in possession of the basketball, dribbling it gracefully with his right hand while he directed his teammates with the other. He was being guarded by his best friend, though one couldn't tell from the conversation they were having.

"_Give it up old man, you know you can't guard me."_

"_We'll see about that."_

"_Isn't that why the score's 9 to 7?"_

"_Just shut up and play Trip."_

"_Was that an order sir?"_

"_Nope, just a threat."_

And with that, the Captain made an attempt at the ball, but Trip quickly crossed it between his legs, sidestepping Archer's play. From there he leaped into the air, rising gracefully as he cradled the ball in his palm. He his shot was away well before gravity reasserted its hold over his body, the ball kissing gently off the backboard before falling through the hoop. He then cast a smug look back at the Captain.

"_I told you so."_

"_Just check the ball." _

The Captain guarded Trip as play resumed the skins' team was one point away from victory. Trip passed the ball to Rostov, who after a couple of aimless dribbles passed the ball back to the Commander. Again, the Captain pressed his defense, causing Trip to post up on the wing.

"_C'mon Cap'n. At least try to stop me this time."_

"_Hey, you know this isn't my game."_

"_It's not Malcolm's either, but at least he's playing defense."_

"_You want defense, fine. What did you get your girlfriend for her birthday?"_

Trip looked over his shoulder and glared at his Commanding Officer with disdain. He figured he had put the entire breakfast episode behind him with his impromptu surprise party for T'Pol. But obviously, the Captain didn't know when to leave well enough alone.

Regaining focus, Trip quickly tossed a no-look pass. On the receiving end was Malcolm, who was cutting to the hoop unabated. He threw the ball up towards the rim, an uncoordinated effort that would ultimately provide winning results.

"_Game." _WasTrip's parting shot to the Captain, leaving him to stew in defeat as he left to congratulate his teammates.T'Pol quietly watched the entire outcome unfold; to the exclusion Ensign Sato's prodding.

"T'Pol? What are you up to?" Hoshi asked, breaking the Vulcan out of her trance. "I've seen that look before Sub-Commander. What are you about to do?" She continued.

Though Hoshi knew T'Pol would never betray a single emotion of her own volition, she could have sworn there was a sinister twinkle in the Vulcan's eyes. "You shall simply have to wait and see."

And Hoshi did. She watched T'Pol walk out into the middle of the court and right up to Commander Tucker, which wasn't all that surprising. But what the Vulcan did next was in a word, stunning.

"Commander."

"Oh, hey T'Pol, you enjoy your surprise party." He joked.

"Indeed. But as the Captain pointed out, I failed to actually receive a gift from you."

Trip blushed momentarily as he realized T'Pol had been eavesdropping on the taunting, but otherwise maintained his composure. "Really, is there anything in particular that you wanted?"

"Yes, I'd like to challenge you to a game of basketball."

"C'mon T'Pol, be serious."

"I am Vulcan Commander. I am _always_ serious."

Trip quickly realized her ruse for what it was for, and he refused to be baited. "Give it up T'Pol. I really didn't take you for being such a sore loser." He responded, handing her the ball.

T'Pol waited patiently as Trip walked towards the exit, until he was a sufficient enough distance away that T'Pol would have to raise her voice to be heard by him.

"Commander!" She boomed, her voice resonating around the room. "So there is no confusion. Is the reason you do not wish to play me because you're afraid you might lose to a Vulcan, or because you might lose to a woman?"

Her tactic was successful as Trip stopped in response. Every eye in the Cargo Bay was now transfixed on him, patiently waiting his answer. Others decided to be far much vocal with their opinions. "You know Commander," The Captain started, "I can understand if you don't wanna play her. I mean she is a big bad Vulcan after all. So if you're scared, just say you're scared."

His comment was simply the first salvo of a series of catcalls and heckles cajoling him to accept the Sub-Commander's challenge.

T'Pol simply waited with refined grace as she knew what his ultimate decision would be. For if there was one truly universal discovery that she had made while onboard Enterprise was that be it human or Vulcan, the male ego was easily manipulated.

Turning on his heel, Trip stormed back onto the court. "Fine," he seethed, snatching the ball from her grasp, "first one to seven wins. Make it, take it."

Pleased by her manipulation, she decided to needle Trip a little more. "Commander, I was under the impression that you were a 'southern gentleman.' Does not such an appellation require you give me the ball first?"

Trip scowl only intensified as he was forced to relinquish the ball based on something as arcane as 'Ladies First.' But he resolved that it would be of little consequence, as he planned on dispatching T'Pol with due haste.

T'Pol wasted little time attempting to score, calmly cocking her arm back and resting to ball in the palm of her hand. Unfortunately she neglected to take into account her superior strength as the ball careened of the backboard with a thud.

Trip bubbled with laughter as he went to retrieve the lose ball. T'Pol quickly positioned herself between him and the goal. A quick assessment revealed that her stance was too rigid and terse for a successful defense. A simple ball fake caused T'Pol to lean out of position, affording Trip an unabated path to the basket.

"One." Trip announced as his lay-up fell gracefully through the net. He headed back toward the top of the key allowing the ball to causally roll to T'Pol's feet. "Check."

She acknowledged his request, annoyed with her gross miscalculation. Trip renewed by his good fortune, rattled off two jumpers, increasing his lead to three. "You realize this was a terrible idea right?" He gloated, dribbling the ball in front of her with confidence.

T'Pol refused to yield so easily, setting up once again in defense. She was intent on learning from her previous error and concentrated on Commander Tucker's hips instead of the ball. Her adjusts paid off, deftly stealing the ball from him during an attempted crossover. Capitalizing on her good fortune, T'Pol quickly drove to the hoop for an easy lay-up. With her renewed efforts, combined with Trip's lackadaisical defense, allowed the Vulcan to tie the score at three apiece.

As T'Pol returned to the top of the key, she was surprised by the number of on-lookers that were actually cheering for her. A fact she felt compelled to point out. "It appears the crowd seeks to witness your demise." She stated, bouncing the ball in his direction.

"That because everyone loves an underdog. Even one that's got no chance to win." He replied, checking the ball back.

T'Pol decided to try her luck again with another set shot, believing that she had finally determined how much strength was required at her present range. But just as the ball began its arc towards the goal, Trip leapt high in the air and with but a few of his fingers deflected the shot.

T'Pol quickly repositioned herself as Trip retrieved her errant shot. He appeared as though he would attempt to drive by her to the hoop, but instead headed to the low post. Trip attempted to inch his way closer to the basket as he tried to back T'Pol down. He soon realized that he wasn't making any headway. While she might be slight in form, T'Pol still possessed the formidable strength of her people.

Realizing the futility in his attempt, Trip opted to take an alternative shot, a baby hook. Unfortunately this shot wasn't really apart of his repertoire, as evidence by his shot missing the mark.

Grabbing the rebound, T'Pol sprinted out to a respected amount, turned and made her first distance shot of the contest.

Though embolden by her success, T'Pol's next would miss its mark, her shot rushed due to Trip's dogged defensive efforts. The two continued to trade possessions, struggling to score at every opportunity. Eventually, T'Pol managed to gain the upper hand as the score was currently six to five.

The crowd was at now at a fever pitch, cheering wildly as T'Pol checked the ball to Trip. The desperation in his eyes was readily apparent; the idea of losing to her in a game that was his dominion was obviously unpalatable. Which, after yesterday was just the way she wanted it.

"Correct me if I'm wrong Commander, but I seem to recall you informing me that I had 'no chance' of winning. Do you wish to retract this statement?" T'Pol chided.

Trip's only response was a grunt coupled with a harsh check of the ball back to her, as his humor for the situation long since evaporated.

As soon as the ball was back in her hands Trip closed to distance. T'Pol, her course of action already determined, immediately jumped in the air for what she hoped would be the game winning shot. Trip, intent on getting another block, met her action.

In basketball parlance, the phenomena is known is hang-time. The uncanny ability exhibited by some individuals to violate the laws of gravity at their leisure, allowing them to seemingly 'hang' in the air what opponents must perceive as an eternity. And much to the disbelief of Trip and everyone else in the gym, it appeared as though T'Pol ranked amongst these fortunate few. Though the difference between the two contestants consisted of mere centimeters, it was enough as T'Pol attempt left her hand unabated.

It was a rainbow of a shot, arcing high towards the rafters before finally descending to the hoop. Yet the shot fell true, the game winner was quite literally 'nothing but net'."

The cargo bay exploded in cheer, the crew apparently unable to comprehend the ramifications of what had just occurred. T'Pol however was fully aware of the meaning as she walked up to a stunned Trip and whispered these words in parting…

"I believe Commander, the correct appellation is 'game, set and match'."

It was likely that Trip's growl of frustration reverberated throughout the ship.


	5. Chapter 5

Interlude and Fugue (Chapter 5 Conclusion)

By vandiver49

Summary: The Final Battle

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with Star Trek, I'm just borrowing them for a moment. Please don't sue; people in the Navy don't make that much money.

This story takes place after "Singularity"

The US Hockey team's defeat over the USSR in 1980, Billie Jean King over Booby Riggs, the Red Sox comeback against the Yankees, IBM's Big Blue victory over Kasparov, these vaunted upsets paled in comparison Trip losing to T'Pol. The needling and the jibes persisted for weeks, infuriating him further. Only a revenge just as humiliating would do and Trip spent the following weeks developing such retribution. Finally, the opportunity presented itself. He and T'Pol were returning from an exploration for dilithium crystals from a less than hospitable environment. Upon their return they were both relegated to the decon chamber at the behest of Doctor Phlox. This would be where Trip would make his final stand.

"All right Commanders, it should take no more than seven or eight minutes to ensure that both of you are free of any contagions." Phlox stated through the viewing window. "Once I return you'll be free to leave. And please don't forget to use the decontamination gel." He finished in parting

"Do you believe that these crystals will be compatible for use?" T'Pol inquired to Trip, slowly peeling out of her uniform.

"Well, the lattice structure isn't as nice I'd like, but beggars can't be choosers." Trip replied, tugging down the zipper of his jumpsuit. "I wish we had more time though. I'm sure if we had drilled a little deeper, we woulda found the good stuff."

There was a time where T'Pol would have needed further clarification of Commander Tucker's colloquialisms, but she had become fairly adept at inferring their meaning. "There is no evidence to support that assumption." She countered.

"Yes there is. The planet had a natural gravitation of almost 2G's, plus we only drilled through one percent of the overall depth of the strata." Trip replied.

T'Pol turned towards him, her hands covered in gel. "There a significant number of factors associated with the formation of dilithium crystals."

Trip turned away from her, affording her the opportunity to cover his back first. "I'm not making any assumptions," He continued, "the evidence is in the core samples themselves. There structure is far better at the bottom verses the top."

"The difference you are referring to is mere micrometers." She answered, smothering the gel across his ribs; her strokes as meticulous as her words.

Trip tried to remain focused on the argument but couldn't help the indulgence his body was taking in T'Pol's ministrations. "You know, just because you're the rock expert doesn't mean my points aren't valid." He managed to string together, silently chiding himself for his lack of concentration.

"I am not dismissing your assertions." She defended, her hands wandering up Trip's neck. He could feel the onset of goosebumps and the shiver that would surely follow if he allowed her to continue.

"Okay, your turn." He said, turning hastily. He forced a stern look upon his face, as she would expect some external sign of annoyance from their present conversation, not one of indulgence. After a brief exchange of glares between the two, T'Pol finally complied.

Trip applied a generous amount of gel to his hands, and slowly began working his hands across T'Pol's back. "Well, I'm sure Starfleet would be more than happy to establish a mining station on that quaint little rock since the crystals obviously aren't up to Vulcan standards."

"What would be the benefit of mining inferior crystals?" T'Pol replied, attempting to maintain the neutrality in her voice. A task made difficult with Commander Tucker's hands freely roaming her person.

"What's to say they can't be refined? We're talking about one of the rarest and most valuable substances in the universe. We gotta make every bit count." Trip said, as his hands slowly began to ascend towards her head. Trip was confident though she would attempt to forestall his efforts.

T'Pol unwittingly played right into his trap as she attempted to block the caress of her ears, only to discover his hands were suddenly no where near her head. Instead they were down at her side, dancing across her ribs at an impossible speed. That speed, combined with gel's natural coolness, produced a sensation T'Pol had not experienced in nearly sixty years. A laugh.

It was more of a giggle in Trip's estimation, but more than enough for him to work with, as he away from her slowly. He then knelt down to retrieve a PADD he'd hidden under the bench to record the momentous occasion. It even included the brief smile that graced T'Pol's lips before she concealed it with her hand.

The look she gave him though as he rose to his feet was decidedly less jovial. "What did you do to me?" T'Pol scowled through her teeth.

"Nothing, I just wanted to know if Vulcans were ticklish." Trip replied playing her laugh again for his amusement. "Apparently they are."

T'Pol, found absolutely nothing humorous about it. "Give me the PADD."

"No."

"I order you to hand the PADD over to me or I'll…"

"Or you'll what? Wrestle me for it?" Trip replied mockingly, repeating the soundtrack over for good measure.

T'Pol realized a forceful extraction, be it verbal or physical, would be ill advised. Thus she decided to implement a far more subtle tact. "I grow tired of these games Commander." She said, with a noticeable change in her demeanor.

"What game would that be T'Pol?" Trip replied, cautiously holding his ground.

"This test of mettle between you and I." She answered, stretching her arms above her head, such that her tank top revealed the bow of her bosom.

It was a sight for Trip to behold, one which caused him to stumble backwards before landing the bench. But her strategy was readily apparent, snapping his eyes shut in response. He was made of far sterner stuff. "Come on T'Pol, you're gonna have to do better than that." He challenged.

His attempt to assuage her temptation woefully insufficient in T'Pol's estimation, as she still had three senses with which to tantalize his mind. "Charles," she teased melodiously, enunciating his name as if it were champagne, "you have already expressed an affinity for my physique. Do you not wish to indulge your curiosity?"

He had never heard a voice sound so breathy, so sensual before. It was hard to believe that it emanated from the cool and calculating Vulcan. But Trip refused to give into her attempts of seduction. "It's not going to work T'Pol." He said, reaffirming his position.

T'Pol simply quirked an eyebrow in response, as her eyes trailed down the Chief Engineer's standard blue boxers. "Your body betrays you Charles."

"That's Okay Sub-Commander, just as long as my mind doesn't." He countered, his hands firmly clutched around the PADD. Unfortunately, the coy conversation had resulted in Trip losing track of two very important things; how much time was left until they could exit the chamber and where his would-be temptress had wondered off to.

It was in that instance, Trip found himself hit in the face by a delicate piece of fabric. It could have only come from her. "T'Pol, what did you just hit me in the face with?"

"You are a human of above average intelligence, surely you can determine what _that_ is." She cooed in response.

Trip attempted to pinpoint the location of her voice, but T'Pol's innuendo-laced comment had the desired effect; his mind became consumed with identifying the cool piece of fabric that adorned his crown. It smelled of verdigris and herbal tea. A quick mental inventory of the apparel in the room and his mind came to the only _logical_ conclusion; that he was now locked in a room with a topless Vulcan.

Trip's concentration was beginning to fracture. This must have been what Odysseus felt he summarized, as his own personal siren was silently stalking around the Decontamination Chamber. What Trip needed to do was to focus, but every time he squeezed his eyes, all he could imagine was T'Pol's nude form. And every time he attempted to pinpoint her footfalls, all he could hear was her sultry voice ringing in his ears. He estimated that there were only sixty seconds remaining until they could exit the chamber. But unbeknownst to the Commander was just how long that minute would be.

She had been studying him the entire time, carefully tiptoeing towards him. He was a man of two minds, struggling to maintain his resolve. T'Pol was in awe of his strength. Her nostrils were filled by the scent of his lust, yet he took no action. But his stubbornness only caused her to redouble her efforts.

Trip removed the bit of nothingness from his face, contemplating whether or not he should even hazard a peak. But that was when he felt the touch of two fingers on his wrist. Slowly the pair of digits began walking up his arm, setting his skin ablaze in their wake. He tried to slide away from her caress but his body refused to comply. His hesitation was rewarded by what must have surely been her thigh sliding against his leg; what was unmistakably her bare breasts sliding against his chest and what could only be her arm wrapping around his neck. In that moment, Commander Tucker, the most respected and foremost engineer in all of Starfleet, knew he was lost.

"Charles," she whispered seductively, her words tickling the tiny hairs that rimmed his ear "open your eyes."

It was an easily fulfilled request as whatever resistance was left in Trip evaporated into compliance. He turned his head in the direction of her voice, opening his eyes so that he could gaze upon the liquid brown irises of his seductress; her eyes being the last thing he would see. With a single simple squeeze of her fingers, T'Pol rendered him unconscious.

She pried his fingers off the PADD with ease, as Trip lay prone across the bench. With a few simple keystrokes she deleted the offending file, ensuring her emotionless reputation once more.

T'Pol retrieved her top from the deck, presenting some semblance of decorum right as Phlox returned. "Well it appears the both of you are in perfect health." He stated before glancing over at Trip's slumbering form. "Oh my, is Commander Tucker OK?"

"Yes doctor, he simply elected to 'take a nap'." T'Pol remarked, heading for the exit.

While a reasonable explanation, the decontamination chamber was hardly the appropriate venue in Phlox's opinion. "I was under the impression that this wasn't an overly taxing mission." He rejoined, moving to wake the unconscious Engineer.

"I believe it best to let him sleep doctor." T'Pol interjected. "Commander Tucker obviously underestimated just how strenuous this task would be." She elaborated, glancing down at him from the threshold. "He is after all, only human."


End file.
